


Something Wicked This Way Comes

by wolfsbaneheart



Series: Three Stops Till Home [1]
Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Canon Typical Violence, Developing Relationship, F/M, Female Stiles Stilinski, Kidnapping, Magic, Pre-Relationship, Witches
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-08-27
Updated: 2014-02-25
Packaged: 2017-12-24 21:06:18
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 5
Words: 12,053
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/944654
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/wolfsbaneheart/pseuds/wolfsbaneheart
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It’s been a month since the mess with the Alpha Pack ended and life in Beacon Hills was finally returning to normal. Well, as normal as it can be when most of your friends are werewolves. Stiles is learning to be an emissary under Deaton and Morrell's guidance, the packs learning how to deal with having two very different alphas and Stiles is apparently Morrell’s errand girl. </p><p>And really, Stiles can’t really be blamed for the fact she’s kidnapped by crazy witches because it’s not her fault they’ve got their intel wrong on her relationship with Derek.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Errands

**Author's Note:**

> The idea for this has been floating around in my head since Season 2 and I began writing it before Season 3, so while it is canon divergent it still follows most of season 3's plot. That being said this is a girl!Stiles fic so if that's not your game then feel free to turn back and hopefully any differences between girl!stiles and boy!stiles won't annoy you too much.
> 
> This story also links to one of my previous works called 'Moonlight' but you don't have to read that to understand this one, but it is where this whole writing adventure started for me and where this story blossomed from so yeah...
> 
> And on that rambling note I hope you enjoy this.

The hallways are empty and silent except for the sound of Stiles’ boots hitting the floor as she makes her way towards Morrell’s office. Practice had finished twenty minutes earlier and most of girls hadn’t bothered with showers, more excited to be free from school for the weekend. For the dates they’d been talking about all through practice- annoying the crap out of Finstock-, or going the mall and shopping. Stiles couldn’t help but be jealous. Even shopping with Lydia and Allison would have been a more pleasant experience than the familiar feeling of unease that grows in her stomach as she gets closer to Morrell’s office. Not for the first time she wishes she had some excuse to bail from her bi-weekly meeting but she couldn’t come up with anything credible, so she had no choice but go.

Stiles would admit, should anyone actually ask her, that the road to becoming a emissary wasn’t as exciting and experience as she’d expected. Maybe her two teachers, Morrell and Deaton, were slightly to blame for that because it became clear within her first few meetings that there was more to being an emissary for a pack then cryptic remarks. Stiles’ hopes that some of her teachers cool might rub off on her, making her appear less like a hyperactive teenager and more like someone who could screw over any big bad that came their way, were so far falling short. Instead she found herself stuck in Morrell’s office every Friday afternoon for their seemingly pointless meetings and she had a desk that now groaned under the very old leather bound books Deaton gave her to read and memorise every Monday. Seriously, being a trainee emissary sucked.

Okay, Stiles would admit the meetings weren’t completely pointless. It’s just that, surprisingly, nothing was actually attacking the wider Beacon Hills community. Four months had passed since the dramatic showdown with the alpha pack. Kali was dead, Deucalion was off alive (and neither Derek or Scott would listen to her on why that was a bad idea) and the twins were travelling on the notion they wanted to find themselves. Much to both Danny and Lydia’s annoyance. So Beacon Hills, for the first time in two years, was blissfully quiet on the supernatural front- well except werewolves, but they were a given in Beacon Hills apparently. So Stiles weekly meetings with Morrell to discuss her experiences with supernatural nasties were getting slightly repetitive. There are only so many times that Stiles could say that she didn’t care about her scar, that ran along the width of her chest below her breasts, before she wanted to punch something. And she didn’t have much input on how she felt about Derek killing Kali for inflicting her wound, because the second she saw the blood that came with Derek basically ripping out the woman’s throat Stiles had fainted. Stiles knew the idea should have at least been psychologically scarring but really, at this point she was kinda full up on repressed guilt so it was nice not actually blame herself for something. For once.

Stiles reached Morrell’s office and threw her backpack down on one of the three empty chairs that were placed outside the office. She walked towards the door and knocked three times before dropping down in the chair closest to the door. Morrell would open the door and yet her in when she was ready, so Stiles pulled out her phone and loaded up Candy Crush. She was determined to catch up on Isaac, who somehow managed to be five levels ahead of her despite the fact Stiles was actually spending more time than was healthy playing the stupid game. Whatever, she had time on her hands. She was doing normally teenage things for once, like getting addicted to games on her mobile and staying out late with friends.

“Victory!” Stiles shouted, throwing her arms up into the air as she finally completed the level. As she dropped her arms back to rest on her lap she half expected to see Morrell’s face emerge from her office with an eyebrow raised high- seemly another thing that everyone but Stiles could do in Beacon Hills- but she got nothing. Not even a cough from Morrell’s office which was strange. Stiles looked down at her phone and saw that fifteen minutes had passed since she’d arrived at the office and Morrell had never left her outside for this long before. Images of Morrell laying dead in her office, eyes wide open in horror filled Stiles head as she jumped up and threw open the office door. But she was faced with nothing but an empty office. 

“You’ve gotta be kidding me,” Stiles says to herself as she steps inside. She closes the door behind her and walks towards the desk, not completely sure that she won’t see Morrell laying dead behind it but there’s nothing. Morrell’s office is completely empty and Stiles had been waiting outside like an idiot when Morrell had bailed on her- and wasn’t that a massive kick in the teeth. Stiles had spent most of the afternoon wishing to do the very same thing. 

Stiles’ gaze dropped to the envelope that rested on Morrell’s immaculate desk and couldn’t help but cringe when she saw it was addressed to her, using her full name. She snatched the envelope up from the desk, tore it open and stuffed the envelope into her pocket- determined to shred the thing later- and began to read what Morrell had written.

“An errand?” Stiles couldn’t believe that despite being bailed on, and having no explanation from Morell on what was more important, she was expected to go and buy some books for the woman. Typical. Most girls got to go spend their Friday nights doing things they liked and Stiles was going to be stuck shopping. God she hated shopping. But whatever, her glamourous journey to becoming an emissary continued so Stiles sucked it up, stuffed the letter in her pocket and shut the office door behind her before heading towards her Jeep.

* * * * * * * * * * *

“Stiles- what’s wrong?!” Scott asked, after picking up his phone of the first ring. Stiles couldn’t help but laugh, it only had taken her best friend becoming the true alpha for him to actually manage to answer his phone before she left about five scaving voicemails.

“Nothings wrong, Scott, I can ring you without something being wrong. In fact, I do it pretty regularly.”

“You’ve got a habit of finding trouble, Stiles,” Scott said sagely through the phone and while Stiles would admit that yes, it was her curiosity that had gotten her friend turned into a werewolf, it was still kinda rude to hold it against her. He’d tried to kill her enough times for them to be equal.

“And aren’t you supposed to be with Morrell?”

“Yeah, don’t remind me. That’s why I’m calling. She’s disappeared and somehow I’m left running around doing her shopping but there’s a catch.” Stiles said as she jumped down the front steps of the school and began to walk towards the parking lot.

Scott sighs. “What is it?”

“The store I’ve got to go to, it’s in Fairview Heights so could you like keep Derek distracted if he hears the Jeep?” 

“Fine,” is Scott’s reply and Stiles knows he’s not happy about it but he’s not going to force himself on her little adventure, unlike another alpha she knows. “I’m supposed to be meeting Derek and Isaac at the house anyways. But you’d better be at your’s when I come round later, we’ve got alien butt to kick.”

“Duh, Scott, and thanks.”

“No problem, and be careful.” Scott says quickly, hanging up before she can even argue. But Scott’s covering for her and she’s reminded once again why she loves him. The McHale pack, and yeah she totally made up their name, somehow manages to exist with two completely different alphas. Stiles is glad she’s at least able to persuade Scott to let her do things with light bribery. Derek on the other hand is complicated.

Derek had been acting strange ever since the night of the alpha smackdown. Acting weirdly protective over her and being dead set against her doing anything he thought might put her in danger, which was basically everything. And it wasn’t like Stiles could exactly remember much of that night anyway, because everything after being in Deaton’s was a blur. Stiles remembered nothing except how Derek had held her hand while she’d gotten stitches and how his green eyes never left her own brown ones the whole time. The drugs Deaton had given her after that rocked because she doesn’t remember much pain in the next few days, but that’s where she thinks the awkwardness between them is from. She’d woken up the next day to Derek sleeping on her desk chair yet she could remember nothing from the night before, and after that he never stopped glancing at her in a way that made her sure she’d probably done something stupid.

But Stiles pushed those thoughts from her mind as she reached her Jeep. Instead, she loads up the directions to The Rabbit’s Foot, the shop Morrell was sending her, focuses on driving to Fairview Heights and praying that she somehow made it back before her dad deemed it late enough to worthy questioning where she’d been- which was happening way too often at the minute.

* * * * * * * * * * *

The drive to Fairview Heights is uneventful. The town itself is only slightly bigger than Beacon Hills, but is more touristy than industrial in nature so traffics slower than Stiles is used to. The only thing that had Stiles worried was the blue pickup that had been on her tail ever since she’d left Beacon Hills. But as Stiles parks in front of the butchers that is next to The Rabbit’s Foot the truck continues driving and she slumps back into her chair, feeling a bit stupid. 

“Not everyone’s out to get you.” Stiles tells herself before climbing down from the Jeep and walking to the sidewalk. 

The Rabbit’s Foot looks like any other of the touristy shops that line the busy street it finds itself on. It’s made of the same cherry red bricks as the other shops, the hanging baskets hanging beside the door are filled with spring flowers and the wide window tries desperately to try and entice people inside. Stiles walks up to the window and guesses that most tourists probably wouldn’t set foot inside, what with the massive crystals, incense bottles, books that promote ‘spiritual healing’ and if that wasn’t enough to turn away most of them away, the thing in the middle of the display that looks like an actual mummified head would most definitely do it. Hell, two years ago Stiles probably would have joined the mass population in running to the hills upon seeing the thing- mummies are creepy, okay- but she’s reached a point in her life where she’s learnt not to judge a book by it’s cover, or in this case a bookstore by it’s creepy window display.

With that depressing thought Stiles walks around a particularly large group of elderly ladies and stops in front of the door. She takes a deep breath, squares her shoulders before grabbing the brass doorknob, which is pretty fancy in her opinion, and walking through the doorway into The Rabbit’s Foot.


	2. Morbid Art

A small bell chimes as Stiles was through the door, and the elderly woman standing behind the counter looks up with a surprised expression. Stiles bites down on her lip to keep the suggestion that removing the creepy monkey head might improve business because despite what most people think, she actually does have a brain to mouth filter. 

The woman however quicky schools her expression into one of polite interest. She’s exactly what Stiles would have expected anyone who worked inside The Rabbit’s Foot to look like from it’s window display, her wispy grey hair is held up with two knitting needles, her shirt looks as if it’s borrowed from the Zorro set and her long skirt is the colour of muddy water. She’s a regular hippy is what Stiles is saying, right down to the peace sign bracelet that she wears on her wrist.

“Hi there, I’m Clarissa and welcome to The Rabbit’s Foot.” The woman, Clarissa, says while throwing her arms out and gesturing around the empty store. “What brings you here today?”

“Oh you know, just looking around.” Stiles says, making sure to smile. She’s not sure why but something is telling her not to mention Morrell. It’s a hunch really but Stiles had learn the hard way that trusting her instincts was definitely the best course of action. Clarissa didn’t seem to pick up on Stiles unease though, instead she began to suggest books that as she made her way back towards the counter.

“...A beginner’s guide to soul therapy is definitely something I’d recommend. You look as if you need something to relax, if the way you’re holdings your shoulders is anything to go by-” a phone rings from the small office that Stiles can see behind the counter and Clarissa smiles apologetically.

“Sorry, I’m the only one in but if you need any help don’t hesitate to ring the bell.” Clarissa instructs, pointing towards the small bell next to the cash register.

“Sure thing,” Stiles says and with a nod Clarissa is walking into the office and closing the door behind her.

Stiles had planned on asking for help to find the books, hoping to get this over as quickly as possible, but that was clearly not going to happen. She was stuck having to try and find them on her own, so really she might as well browse for herself as well. It wasn’t like she had plans or anything. 

The Rabbit’s Foot’s bookshelves were filled with a variety of books, some that looked second hand, others that looked brand new and on a variety of topics; books on ghouls, ghosts and gremlins, a book of poisonous herbs and their uses and books on various mythological creatures were things Stiles found in the first bookshelf alone. All in all the shop was pretty well stocked and should Stiles have come here on her own accord, she probably would have happily walked down each aisle, picking up random books and reading random pages. But she was here for Morrell, and she wasn’t sure if it was her unease with the woman herself or the bookstore that might explain the growing feeling of unease as Stiles walked further into the aisles. The prickly feeling at the back of her neck and the way in which she felt like she was being watched was stupid, she was just projecting or something. 

Stiles spotted the book as soon as she turned into the next aisle, it was on one of the side tables that rested against the back wall and it’s bound leather case had her interested. As she got closer she saw it documented various chinese mythological monsters and the legends that surrounded them. It wasn’t on Morrell’s list but come on, Stiles was totally buying it. This was Beacon Hills after all. If dragons turned up anywhere, they’d turn up in the apparent hell mouth that was her town.

Stiles shuffled the books in her arms, placing her own addition and the top and was glad that she only had one more book to find. Stiles might be packing more muscle than most girls her age, what with running around after supernatural creatures, but these things were seriously heavy. Thankfully the last books shouldn’t have been too far, as it was one ancient chinese medicines, so Stiles shouldn’t have to hold them for much longer. She walks down the aisle, praying that she can find the book and get home before her dad gets in when she spots it. And really, it would be hard not to with the small light that’s focused on it. The painting was seriously messed up and it felt as though the air had left Stiles body as she stared at it. The artists attention to detail would have been commendable if it wasn’t for the fact that it made Stiles think her lunch was going to make a second appearance. Who needed to see someone’s bubbling flesh, as they were burning to death, caught in such grisly detail. No one. The worst part of noticing the painting though is the knowledge that Clarissa actually thought this thing was worth buying, or even worse that she actually enjoyed it. And isn’t that perfect, Stiles is alone in the shop of a woman who enjoys paintings depicting people’s pain. Perfect. A+ to Morrell for essentially signing Stiles’ death certificate. 

The urge to throw the books to the floor, bolt to the Jeep before finding Derek and Scott is ridiculous. Stiles is a grown woman. She doesn’t need someone to rescue her, she’s shown on multiple occasions that she’s more than able to stand up against supernatural forces. And the memories of Peter saying ‘the chase is half the fun’ at the last pack meeting is not helping Stiles mental well-being. Because she hates it when she agrees with Peter, because that means that the world is seriously fucked up. So Stiles takes a deep breath, focuses instead on her dad’s words of not showing fear if she ever felt threatened and makes her way back towards the front of the store. 

Of course, now that Stiles had noticed the stupid painting everything about The Rabbit’s Foot instantly became ten times as creepy, and how the hell had she managed to miss the other paintings that lined the walls? Because they were seriously messed up. A vampire getting staked, a unicorn with a spear through it’s torso… the thing that breaks the fragile part of control Stiles has disappears the moment she notices the next painting. It’s not as if seeing a werewolf being sliced in half wasn’t bad enough, which really, it was. No, it was the fact that the two figures doing the nasty looked way too much like Gerard and Chris Argent. And that was supposed to be impossible. There was no way in hell Clarissa knew who they were… right?

“I am so screwed.” Stiles mutters to herself. It’s painfully obvious to Stiles that she needs to have words with Morrell as she gets closer to the front of the store. All the effort Morrell and Deaton were putting in would clearly be a waste if she ended up dead. And boy, was Stiles getting the vibe that spending much more time here would make her the star of her very own painting.  
The conversation with Morrell wasn’t the only thing Stiles needed to fix though, as she clearly needed to slap Scott for even thinking of letting her do something on her own. Because hello, Stiles apparently was a magnet for trouble and not even the fun kind that most teenagers got up to. Nope, her life consisted of things that wanted to kill her. in increasingly horrifying ways. It was also painfully obvious that she really needed to cut Derek some slack with the whole protective alpha thing, because as much as she could take care of herself it would have been nice knowing he was waiting outside in her Jeep ready to throw anyone who dared attack his pack mates into the nearest hard surface. 

So when Stiles finally made it back to the front of the store and found Clarissa waiting at the counter, with an expression that could only be described as predatory, she knew that If she got out of this alive she would be making some seriously life changes. Because shit like this really needed to stop happening already.

“So very good choices,” Clarissa commented, turning the books over as she began to ring them up. “But you seem to be missing something. Wait right here.” She leaves the counter before Stiles can even think about arguing, and Stiles guesses that the odds of her being moments away from meeting her death have increased significantly. Then again, Stiles is standing pretty close to the window and she can’t help but think that it would be a new kind of stupid to attack her with the amount of tourists walking on the sidewalk on the other side of the glass. So Stiles stays put, listening out for any weird noises, and again wishes that Scott or Derek was here. At least they’d be able to hear what Clarissa is doing.

A heavy book is apparently what Clarissa felt Stiles book collection was missing, something she and Deaton would clearly agree on should they ever meet. And god she hoped they wouldn’t.

“I find being prepared is the best for of defence, and you seem to be missing anything on this topic.” Stiles watches as Clarissa slowly turns the book around and even though she already knows exactly what’s its going to be about she can’t help the way her heart misses a beat. Because Stiles doesn’t believe in coincidences and there is no way in hell Clarissa doesn’t know something, because why else would she show Stiles a book on werewolves?

“More of a Team Edward girl myself.” Stiles says, trying to make her voice sound cheery as she pushes the book back across the counter. If a twilight reference actually managed to save her life, Stiles was going to be so pissed.

“A shame,” is all Clarissa says in reply before ringing up the last of Stiles books. She doesn’t speak again but Stiles doesn’t miss the glances Clarissa keeps on throwing her. 

Despite reaching new levels of creepy though, Clarissa simply takes Stiles money and wishes her a good day as she turns and leaves The Rabbit’s Foot. Stiles manages to mutter a weak goodbye of her own before she throws open the door and she’s never been so happy to run into an old lady before in her life. 

Not even the dirty glance Stiles gets can ruin the relief that’s spreading through her body as she walks towards her Jeep. Even the memories of leaving Harris’ old chemistry lessons pale in comparison and the willpower it takes for Stiles not to kiss her Jeep is embarrassing.

Stiles launches her bag and the books into the passenger seat before climbing in herself, and gunning her engine to life. And if the tyres squeal as Stiles throws her baby into reverse she can’t even make herself care about the cost of new ones.

Stiles pulls up onto her driveway fifteen minutes later and not even the sight of a burger wrapper in the passenger seat of her dad’s cruiser can ruin her mood. She’d somehow managed to escape yet another crazed individual, within a few hours she’d be blowing up aliens with Scott and making her dad feel guilty about sneaking junk food always managed to make her feel slightly better.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I intended last week to have this chapter up by Tuesday at the latest. Most of it was written and when I posted the first chapter last week I was actually pretty happy with how the second chapter was turning out. Fast forward a few days and I hated it. 
> 
> Anyway, this isn't anywhere near how I'd imagined the chapter going but hopefully you all enjoyed it.  
> Any thoughts and suggestions are totally welcome by the way. Just to let you know.


	3. To Chip Or Not To Chip, That Is The Question?

Stiles barely has time to register that another week has passed before she’s driving home from another ‘session’ with Morrell. A rogue omega had rolled into town and despite having two alphas had managed to invade the packs attempts to talk to them. Scott being his usual sunshine self had managed to take the thing fairly well, although Stiles imagines that’s only because of him being new to the whole alpha thing because Derek was literally a walking, talking, growling ball of annoyance at the whole situation. It was like he thought they all thought it was his fault somehow, which they didn’t, and nothing anyone did would take the scowl from his face. And Stiles had tried, many times with various schemes with Scott and Isaac and yet nothing- although she was definitely not showing up in her underwear like Allison suggested, the traitor. Drunks sleepovers were the worst, especially for things you were actively trying to deny… like attractions to certain grumpy alphas with gorgeous green eyes.

A car horn blaring brought Stiles jumping back to the present and she winced as she checked her rear view mirror and saw the amount of cars waiting behind her. She just hoped Coach wasn’t in one of the cars because he’d spent all practise going on about how he couldn’t be late and it would be just Stiles luck to make him late to whatever the hell he was doing. The girls mostly thought a date but just no, Stiles did not need to envision Coach dating. It was just weird. Stiles waited until it was safe to pull out after a particularly shiny Ford before beginning to drive home thankful that her book bag was relatively empty. Because on top of Derek’s nightly pack meetings where he scowled at everyone the second they dared drift away from the various tasks they were doing in helping to catch the rogue Stiles’ teachers had decided to spring a series of mini tests on them. Which really was just perfect. 

It was only be the miracle of coffee that Stiles had made it through the week and as she got closer and closer towards home she couldn’t help but get excited about the epic nap she was about to take. She had three hours to kill and no werewolves were currently in life or death situations so she was bowing out for a few hours of blissful oblivion.

Stiles’ should have guessed that her day had been far too peaceful for her life as she unlocked her front door and slowly dragged her feet upstairs. She really should have because she opened her bedroom door and her bed was taken up by none other than Derek who, was not only messing up what should have been her perfectly cool bed covers, had the books she’d bought from the Rabbit’s Foot resting on his ridiculously tight black jeans.  
Crap. Stiles was so busted.

“Care to explain?” Derek said setting the books down on Stiles’ bed before getting up and crossing his arms across his chest.

“Care to explain why yet again i come home to you on my bed, because let me tell you buddy one day it’s not going to be me and you’re going to have a lot of explaining to do with my dad.” Stiles said throwing herself down onto her desk chair and letting her head painfully hit her desk. Was really too much to ask for just a simple afternoon nap?! The pain was worth it though because anything was better than looking at Derek’s scowly face and the way his henley stretched across his biceps.

“Also, what if I’d brought someone home with me, huh? How would it look with you in my bed to someone-” Derek growled and shit, that was his ‘you are seconds away from having your throat tore out’ growl and that was not cool. Stiles hadn’t gotten that growl since the night of the alpha smackdown and she was about to swing her chair around and hold her hands out in surrender when it was spinning around of it’s own accord. It was a miracle that Stiles didn’t fall of the chair and the thought of wishing Finstock could have seen her rare moment of balance skills flittered across her mind for the few seconds it took Derek to put his arms on the back of her chair and get way too up close and personal with her. Because suddenly thinking about anything but how utterly and devastatingly gorgeous Derek was and how good he smelt became fucking impossible.

“Stiles,” Derek barely even whispered and Stiles totally did not shiver. “Where did you get the books?” He spoke slowly as if he was conversing with a small child and Stiles would be lying if she even tried to say that it wasn’t in a small way turning her on but a larger part of her was pissed off. And being pissed off at Derek was still surprisingly easy so Stiles brought her arms up from where they’d been clutching the base of her desk chair and brought them up to Derek’s arms before throwing them away from her. 

“A bookstore, Derrreeek.” Stiles made sure to exaggerate the syllables, knowing it was one of her many habits that annoyed Derek. Derek rolled his eyes before stepping back in defeat, clearly knowing that she was holding something back but going to give jack shit away to him. Stiles resisted the urge to laugh or fist pump because Derek’s bitch face was a thing of beauty as he stalked across the room back towards her bed, before taking his previous position and stared at her. Apparently this was his new form of attack, knowing that she hated to be constantly watched but Stiles wasn’t going to break eye contact first. She would win this, even if her cheeks decided that now was the time to blush under Derek’s constant scrutiny of her face but she wouldn’t look away. Stiles didn’t dare look at the clock to see how long their staring contest had lasted but it was making her itchy. She licked her lips nervously and Derek’s gaze followed the action, watching her tongue glide across her lips as if it was somehow the most fascinating thing on the earth. Which it wasn’t but Derek’s shoulders dropped and he was purposefully not looking in her direction which meant that she’d won and he’d let the books origin slide- at least for a few more hours.

Stiles turned back towards her desk and let out the breath she hadn’t even realised she been holding. Stiles spun her desk chair around again and loaded up her laptop to mindlessly browse tumblr for a few hours because clearly her bed was being occupied by someone who would not react well to her throwing herself down next to him for a nap. Derek’s personal bubble was not something anyone should try to invade without regretting it instantly.

* * * * * * * * * * * 

“Shouldn’t you be somewhere Stiles,” Derek asked, his voice heavy with amusement sometime later. Stiles tore her eyes away from her computer and the game of chess she’s been playing against Lydia to glance towards her clock and shit. She had less than ten minutes to drive to the library.  
“Why didn’t you punch me or something?!” Stiles shouted as she threw herself around her room, collecting the various things she’d need for her shift of volunteering under Bettie Horne’s watchful gaze. “I thought you’re supposed to be a responsible alpha now!” Derek being the jackass he was just laughed and Stiles threw him a finger before dropping down and tying up her converse which she’d stupidly thrown off in the past hour. “I hate you so much,” Stiles said as she threw herself through her bedroom door shoving her backpack on. “Like that’s true.” Was Derek’s reply and Stiles nearly missed a step in response because shit, he didn’t know did he? Because that would just be unbelievably pathetic that yet again Stiles had fallen for someone clearly out of her league but Derek still actively sort out her company so he couldn’t know…

Stiles tried to ignore how much his comment had thrown her as she drove towards the library. It was as she had to stop at a red light near Scott’s that she found herself wishing she’d given at least some form of a comeback to make her shock less obvious, something along the norm of ‘close the window’ or even threatening him with wolfsbane. Because even though Stiles was attracted to Derek she did not want to ruin their friendship, because she was certain that was what they’d become at least. Friends. And not many people had the honour of calling Derek their friend.

* * * * * * * * * *  
Bettie Horne was five foot nothing of grey hair, tortoiseshell glasses and red lipstick that you did not want to piss off. But as Stiles came racing through the front doors of the library she merely tutted before smiling. 

“As much as I remember young love being distracting Stiles please do try and be prompt in your arrival to start your shift. You can start by putting those dollies of books away please.” Bettie was clearly on something as she breezed away towards her office, but whatever if Bettie wanted to believe that someone actually found wanting to date her a thing- ha- then Stiles would roll with it. Whatever meant that she didn’t piss Derek off further by being late to the pack meeting happening later that night.

Stiles grabbed the easiest looking dollie and began wheeling it around, depositing the books in their rightful place and scornfully placing books onto it when people had just dumped them in the stupidest of places. The volunteering had been her dad’s idea, a way of keeping her out of trouble after she’d come home with stitches across her chest and refused to tell him why. Stiles got the impression that he thought she was in a gang or something equally horrifying to a sheriff but while the task was mind-numbingly boring it at least kept her dad happy. So for the past two months, she’d spent four hours every Friday evening completely whatever task Bettie laid out for her, whether it be putting books back into their rightful places, reading to group of children at seven when Kerry got flu or even putting library card holders details into the computers system. It was strangely nice actually, although Stiles would never admit it to anyone, to be inside the library walls and as long as she got the task done Bettie didn’t mind her slouching off towards the end of her shift. Which was what Stiles was doing as eight o’clock rolled round because the children’s reading group where happily listening to the Bear Who Didn’t Like Honey with Kerry, the three dollies of books to be returned where done and Stiles had gone through another small box of library card holders. 

Stiles was chatting to Scott on Facebook when Bettie emerged from the history section, walking towards her like a woman on a mission and Stiles wondered what the hell she’d done wrong. Because Bettie never walked towards her until the end of her shift, something about finding her constant movement distracting, so this was new and clearly Stiles’ dad was going to kill her when he found out she’d been sack from volunteering.

As Bettie got closer towards the desk Stiles did the first thing that popped into her mind and opened her mouth, praying that it would somehow get her out of whatever situation she’d created.

“Bettie, did I say how awesome that sweater is? The colour is totally rockin’ and-” Bettie held up her hand and Stiles’ mouth snapped shut. What even was that shit that was falling from her mouth, and why the hell had she gone to comment on clothes. Stiles knew nothing about clothes other than jeans, t-shirts and hoodies. And by the look on her face Bettie knew it too.

“While the flattery is appreciated Stiles you should at least stick to areas of your expertises in future.” Bettie’s grey eyes flicked towards the ‘bazinga’ t-shirt Stiles was currently wearing and wow that was most definitely disgust written across her face.

“Now that that’s over however why don’t you head on home? You looked pretty flustered when you came in and I don’t want you dad thinking I over work you.”  
“Y-you want me to go?” Stiles asked, pushing her jaw back towards her head after it had dropped from the shock. Bettie normally had Stiles lock up and deal with any last minute emergencies, although Stiles resented anyone who thought getting a copy of 50 Shades was an emergency.

“Yes dear,” Bettie said reaching around the computer and hitting the tower’s off button. “See you next week.”

“Awesome!” Stiles allowed herself a fist pump but Bettie was already retreating back to wherever she’d been before hand and Stiles was actually free. She grabbed her backpack from under the table and hollered a quick ‘bye’ in Bettie’s direction but she didn’t get the loud hushing she expected so she made for the door and never before had Stiles been so happy to see a mostly empty car park. The night air was surprisingly pleasant for early spring and as Stiles walked towards her Jeep she shucked off her hoodie as the heater was only pumping out hot air. Not for the first time Stiles wished that she actually got paid for what she was doing at the library because the Jeep wasn’t exactly cheap to run but whatever. Someone exited the convenience store, the only thing around still open, and as Stiles got to her Jeep she wondered whether or not she had time to grab some chips for her and Scott’s awesome Halo session later when she heard a twig snap from behind her. She jumped, throwing her keys to the floor before sighing. 

“Sorry dude, the choice of chip or not to chip had me distract-” Stiles began after she picked up her keys and turned around expecting the disgruntled owner of the Prius parked next to her. The guy in front of her however looked like no other Prius owner before with his shaven head, large tribal tattoos and wicked smirk across his face. Everything about the guy screamed ‘DANGER’ even before he raised his hand and something heavy came crashing down into Stiles’ forehead. Stiles staggered back into her Jeep with the world spinning and she couldn’t even stop herself falling towards the ground before unconsciousness kicked in and dragged her into darkness.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> There are no excuses for how long this took me to write and publish. All I can say is that university life is far more demanding that I could have ever expected and that I hope that my apologises (and adding another chapter) are enough to excuse how long I took.
> 
> As always I'd love to hear what you think, what you liked or didn't like, and if their are any mistakes please don't hesitate to tell me. I promise I don't bite.


	4. A Wish For Zip Ties

Buried deep in Stiles computer is a list of things that Stiles never again wants to experience in her life ever again. It features things such as eating sushi- Allison’s attempt to add some culture to the packs life- and accidentally walking in to Isaac having a shower. Both things were equally horrifying but as she slowly regains consciousness she knows that if she gets home being hit over the head with a blunt object and being knocked out is going straight in at number one. Stiles’ head is throbbing painfully as she tries to bring the spinning room into focus and she doesn’t need to guess what the sticky substance is on her forehead. Stiles is just glad she can’t see the blood on her forehead because even if it’s her own she’s still going to hit the floor again… or she would if she could. As the room finally comes back into focus Stiles groans. Because not only is she back in a barely lit Rabbit’s Foot, she’s also been tied to a chair. With fucking rope no less. 

Stiles is totally blaming how long it took for her to notice the whole being tied up thing if she ever gets out of this alive. Stiles knows that the quicker she can get out of here the better because she has no idea when Muscles will be getting back, or Clarissa who she suspects is the ring leader of this whole thing, so she pushes against the robes. The chair groans slightly but whoever tied these knew what they were doing because there’s no way in hell a very human Stiles would ever be able to escape without something to cut them. Stiles wonders how long it will take the pack to realise something is wrong as she waits for whoever to arrive and announce their plan for her and seriously wonders what her life has become that she finds herself wishing that they’d tied her with zip ties. 

At least she’d be able to get out of them.

Stiles gets lost in watching the clock ahead of her, the minutes slowly passing by in silence and darkness. A car’s headlights illuminates the shop as it drives past the large windows, whose blinds had sadly been closed, and Stiles can see that most of the chairs have been pushed to the side as if whoever's taken her was expecting a fight. And Stiles can’t help but laugh. No one’s going to know she was missing for at least another half hour.

Sitting still and waiting for the inevitable is quickly becoming boring and even though Stiles knows it will accomplish nothing she can’t help but push against the robes, in some small hope that she’d break the chair. That way she might have a small chance of escaping. Stiles is twisting to the right as much as she is physically able and debating which cause of injury her dad would be most likely to believe when the door behind the counter opens. Stiles’ head snaps up and she watches as a slender hand reaches through the doorway and towards the light switch. It pushes the small lever up and Stiles blinks as the room is suddenly filled with light. Clarissa walks through the doorway, dressed in an outfit not much different from their last meeting. The only thing that is different is her smug expression which is on the next two people who walk out onto the shop floor. The next person to walk through the door is Muscles, and the easiest way to describe him would simply be huge. The guys all muscles, with a square jaw and a neck that is so wide it kinda makes him look like a shark. He drops what looks like a car part onto the counter and Stiles’ groans. What is it with supernatural creatures and screwing with her car. The final figure walking through the door seemingly finds Stiles misery hilarious because she laughs, her bright purple hair falling behind her shoulders with the movement and her bright green eyes watch Stiles hungrily. And that is not an expression Stiles wants people to look at her with because she’s seen it before when Lydia spots a pair of shoes she likes and Stiles is not something to be on the receiving end of such a look. She’s a squishy lump of sarcastic human, whose life is dependent on not sustaining head injuries and being kidnapped by supernatural creatures or psychotic old men.

Stiles was trying to control her rocketing heartbeat when Clarissa clapped her hands and three chairs flew forwards and landed in front of her and her friends, or coven. Stiles wasn’t exactly sure whether this arrangement was formal or not but it was abundantly clear that she’d somehow managed to piss off a set of witches. Because her life totally needed more supernatural elements really, it wasn’t like werewolves weren’t already a big enough stresser in her life. She did not need witches too. Thanks life but no thanks.

“So seeing as you guys are clearly witches I have one question, why the hell did Muscles their have to brain me? Couldn’t he have just magically knocked me unconscious?” They all just looked at her, none of them apparently going to explain themselves and wow that was a nice change. Not.  
“Because seriously, my dad’s the sheriff and there are only so many times that I can claim sports injuries before he becomes suspicious. And he’s hardly going to like finding his daughter kidnapped and tied to a chair, is he?” Stiles knew she was well and truly fucked when the smile on Muscles’ face got wider. Call it intuition or just common sense but you really shouldn’t do anything that makes your kidnappers smile.

“Your father isn’t the man we want to contact, Stiles.” Clarissa says as she walks out from behind the counter and sits down on one of the chairs. “It’s alpha Hale whose attention we aim to grab.”  
Stiles can’t help but laugh and the girl now resting on the counter looks at her like she’s lost her mind. “And you think kidnapping me’s going to get Derek’s attention. Please you should have gone for Isaac. Derek’s way to attached to someone who's got an unhealthy obsession for scarves.” Clarissa had clearly been misinformed on the whole pack dynamics if she thought going for Stiles would get Derek’s attention. Stiles was more important to Scott and there was no way in hell Derek would even notice she was gone for at least another few hours.

“Derek won’t have even noticed I’ve gone so how about we skip the whole part of this plan where I’m tied to a chair and I go and tell him that you want a- dude back the fuck away from my backpack!” Stiles shouts as Muscles moves from his spot at the window and begins to riffle through her stuff, dumping everything onto the table. He holds up her phone which clearly displays a truly magnificent bitch face of Derek’s and Stiles winces. Crap. He was not supposed to notice she was gone yet. He was totally ruining her completely sound argument of her lack of importance in his life.   
“You clearly underestimated Alpha Hale’s interest in your life.” Muscles quipts before promptly throwing Stiles’ phone at the wall behind her.

“Smashing my phone, a completely new move in supernatural creatures repertoire,” Stiles says bitterly knowing her dad’s totally going to think she was in a fight now she’ll- hopefully- be going home with a bloody forehead and a smashed phone. The girl on the counter laughs, swinging her legs up to cross them before propping her head up with her hand. She’s watching Stiles intently now and it takes everything in Stiles' willpower not to squirm under her gaze. Stiles stares back at her, knowing that this is a game she’ll win when the girls gaze is caught by something Muscles is doing and then she’s jumping down off the counter and at the table.

“Don’t even think about touching that!” Stiles shouts at her as she picks up the small leather bound notebook that Muscles had just put on the table.   
“Why not?” The girls asks innocently. “Is it your diary?”  
“Oh yeah, I totally have time to keep a diary. Unless you noticed my life is pretty full dealing with supernatural bullshit so if you’d be kind enough put it the fuck down.”  
“Now Stiles,” Clarissa says from her chair, her voice sounding tired by the goings on around her. “There’s no need to swear. You are in no danger from us, we only wish to speak to your alpha. Abigail, please put the bestiary down and come back here.” Her gaze flickers towards the door that Stiles knows is behind her on the right and the table is abandoned as the other two take their places next to a now standing Clarissa.   
“What’s going on?” Stiles asks, knowing that somethings got them rattled enough.  
“It looks as if you were wrong Stiles,” Clarissa says fixing her skirt before straightening up again. “Alpha Hale is clearly more aware of you than you’d imagined. He’s only a mere few seconds away if I’m right.” Stiles opened her mouth to argue that there was no way in hell that they could possibly be right but her voice died in her throat as soon as she heard the howl that sounded as if it was just outside the shop. Stiles heart felt as if it skipped a beat. There was no way in hell that he could have known or even found her this quickly. 

But it was hard to argue with the fact that Derek was here when the sound of the shop door being thrown open came from behind her, followed by an terrifying growl. Within seconds a wolfed out Derek was standing next to her, his eyes glowing a fierce red as he stared at the three witches in front of him. Stiles had never seen him look so thoroughly pissed off and he wasn’t even angry at her and she wanted to get as far away from him as possible. There was no missing the waves of anger that were rolling off him in the way that his shoulders were squared, the vein in his jaw was twitching and he looked only a few seconds away from launching himself across the room at the three witches who were surprisingly calm considering everything. Derek had just ripped their door of it’s god damn hinges and they were looking at him like he was some pretty little butterfly that was flying around in front of them.

“Would you like a seat Derek before we talk, or maybe you could think of your anchor to calm yourself down.” Clarissa said sweetly, using a voice similar to the one she’d first used on Stiles upon entering the shop. But Stiles didn’t look to see if she was wearing the same cheerful expression, she was more interested in looking at Derek whose anger seemed to be replaced with shock at the word anchor and Stiles did not like how Abigail’s expression changed into that of victory. “It will be much easier for us to talk that way.” Clarissa finished before talking her seat.

“Let Stiles go.” Derek ordered. “Then we’ll talk.”

“Now Derek, be reasonable. You know Stiles is far too important for us to simply let her go. Your little spark will be staying exactly where she is until we’ve had our say. So take a seat.” Clarissa clapped her hands and a chair landed next to Derek who didn’t even glance at it. Clarissa’s expression darkened and she waved her hands and Stiles turned around to see the door being violently thrown back into place, no doubt wedging shut. Derek finally moved, but instead of sitting on the chair he walked behind Stiles. She could feel his presence even before he brought his hands lightly onto her shoulders and she would forever ignore the relief that spread through her body at the sudden contact between them. Stiles felt how her heartbeat began to slow and how she sagged into her chair and it wasn’t hard to guess that Derek was draining some of her stress away. But now wasn’t the time to wonder what exactly him doing so meant about their relationship because the witches took their seats. Despite their expressions it was clear that this was not going how they’d planned- and really they should know if they’d done their research that no plan containing either her or Derek ever really worked out- and the tension in the shop could have been cut with a knife. The air was thick with the witches magic and Stiles could help but squirm in her seat, wishing that she was as far away from the witches as possible. The witches were watching them closely now as with every second that Derek didn’t take his seat a feeling of pins and needles began to crawl across Stiles’ skin. Derek clearly sensed her discomfort if they way he began to rub circles into her shoulders with his thumbs was anything to go by.

“What do you want?” Derek asked just as the silence nearly became unbearable. Muscles hadn’t stopped glaring at Derek from the minute he hadn’t taken a seat and Stiles didn’t like how he drew his hands into fists as soon as Derek spoke. Abigail on the other hand looked completely bored by the whole thing, picking at her nail varnish while Clarissa sighed.

“We just want to talk to you Derek. Nothing more.” Clarissa said. Abigail nodded her head in agreement while Muscles now appeared to be sizing Derek up, which Stiles couldn’t help but find slightly hilarious.

“Nothing says new friendship like kidnap.” Stiles couldn’t help but say but the way in which Derek dug his thumbs into her shoulders clearly meant shut up. Clarissa looked appalled that Stiles might even view this whole thing as a bad idea but Muscles pitched forwards laughing. Abigail’s eyes flickered between the two with worry and Stiles new before Muscles opened his mouth that whatever he was about to say would end badly. She just had a hutch.

“Well,” he began bringing himself back upright. “Nothing gets an alphas attention more than kidnapping their bitch.” Wait… what? The coven’s misinformation was clearly spectacular because Stiles was most definitely Derek’s anything. Especially not what she guessed Muscles was trying to imply of her being his mate. For a few seconds there was nothing but silence as Clarissa glared at Muscles but then both she and Abigail slowly backed away from their chairs. Derek roared from beside Stiles and before she could even try and stop him he was throwing himself into Muscles. The chair beneath him collapsed as soon as Derek hit him, sending them both into the floor but neither of them seemed to noticed as they tore into each other. Muscles was surprisingly holding his own against Derek, whose fist broke through Muscle’s lip spattering blood onto the both of them. Muscles spat blood from his mouth before laughing until Derek brought claws down along his torso. It was disgusting to watch and yet Stiles’ couldn’t make herself look away. Despite herself she couldn’t help but be impressed by the guy, she’d barely even lasted a second after Kali had ripped open her chest. One minute she remembered looking down and seeing a ugly looking gash across her chest and the next she was in her room, Derek asleep at her window and the wound was covered with stitches, the procedure was something she was glad to have missed.

Stiles would have probably continued to watch the fight between the two men with a morbid curiosity over who would win had movement to her left not caught her attention. Stiles spun her head around and saw both Abigail and Clarissa’s arms raised in front of them as they muttered something under their breath. Stiles’ skin tingled as goose pimples spread across her arms and the smell of lavender hit her nose.

“Shit,” Stiles said which made Derek look towards her just before she, yet again, fell unconscious.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Who knew not being able to sleep would be productive? Most university students probably but anyway here's another chapter of this story completed. I hope you like it and I think this will be the penultimate one.
> 
> Subscribe to this if you want see what madness awaits both Stiles and Derek under the witches and as always I'd love to hear what you think, whether it be good or bad, so please leave a comment.


	5. Not A Piece Of Meat.

For the first few moments of Stiles regaining consciousness she felt strangely calm. Her muscles were heavy yet relaxed and she felt as if she’d been asleep for hours. Then of course reality had to make itself known. Stiles was freezing cold and know that’s she realised this fact she couldn’t help but shiver.

Stiles opened her eyes and actually found herself for the first time in years shocked by what she saw in front of her- which was a mean feat at this point. Because there was no way in hell that Stiles would have ever predicted that she’d open her eyes after dealing with witches to find herself in a meat freezer with none other than Derek Hale, who was glaring moodily at his boots. 

“This is entirely your fault.” Stiles told him, pulling herself away from the shelving she’d been placed against- which eww there was actual raw meat near her- and began to pace the room.

“How is this my fault Stiles, I didn’t get kidnapped.” Derek tried to argue but Stiles couldn’t help but laugh bitterly at that one because he clearly hadn’t been listening out there.

“They only kidnapped me because they thought I was important to you. And while they are seriously deluded in that sense, this how thing is clearly your fault.” Derek stayed silent and went back to staring at his boots.

“Oh wow, real mature wolfboy. Giving me the silent treatment. Real mature alpha material right there.” Stiles said kicking at the floor. She didn’t understand any of this, why the witches thought she was important to Derek. She was nothing to him really except someone who occasionally helped save his life and apparently whose only use to werewolves was to get kidnapped so people could send them a message. And while Derek was clearly planning on wallowing in self pity until someone found them- or more likely they froze to death- Stiles was not about to sit around to turn into a Stilinski-popsicle. Once she got out of this mess she was having a massive hot chocolate with marshmallows and whipped cream which she would drink in the hottest bath she’d ever had. Stiles had to get out of here and she reached towards her pocket for her phone, only remembering as she reached into it that her phone was in the Rabbit’s Foot in pieces.  
“Give me your phone.” She said stepping in front of Derek, who somehow seemed to manage to glare harder at his shoes.  
“I don’t have it.” He muttered, barely louder than a whisper.  
“You mean to tell me that knowing our lives you left the house without your phone.”  
“Yes.”  
“Absolutely brilliant. Sometimes Derek you are about as useful as- ugh.” Stiles walked away from him and kicked at the door. Now Stiles was closer towards the stupid thing that was keeping her from warmth she saw that whoever designed the thing clearly needed to suffer the cold that she was currently exposed to. Because who seriously designed a massive, industrial fridge without the door having an inside handle? Who the hell made doors with no handles? Evil people, with evil plans that who. Like mobsters and apparently witches with a unexplained interest in Derek and an apparent misunderstanding about his relationship to Stiles. But the most important thing of this whole situation was that Stiles could see nothing that would help her escape. The door was a no go and there were no vents to which she might be able to crawl through which meant that she could no nothing but simply wait around and freeze to death. Stiles slunk down to the floor dejectedly. The next few hours were going to be fun.

* * * * * * * *

Zoning out was surprisingly easy all things considered. That is until Derek decided to finally break his self imposed silence and ruin Stiles’ daydreaming of a hot tropical beach.

“Stop doing that.” He barked from across the room, raising his gaze from his boots to glare at her. And Stiles had no idea what her daydreaming had done to offend him.

“Ss-stop what?” She asked, wondering if maybe she’d been muttering under her breath or something. She did that a fair bit apparently, she just hoped it wasn’t anything embarrassing. If she was going to die in a freezer she at least wanted to retain some of her dignity.

“Your teeth. Stop chattering your teeth!” Derek said and it took a few seconds for Stiles’ mind to chat up to her body and realise that her teeth where clashing together painfully and loudly even to her own human ears. Any relief she’d gained from her daydream of relaxing on a hot beach disappeared instantly, instead leaving her miserably cold and wanting Scott’s lacrosse stick to smash down on top of Derek’s stupid head.

“I c-can’t. Unless you’ve f-fforgotten Derek I’m not a piece of meat. Human’s aren’t sup-pposed to be exposed to fr-rr-eezing temperatures in nothing more than a go-god damn vest top so sorry I can’t-t stop ch-chattering my teeth.” Stiles couldn’t even bare to look at him anymore, throwing her head down towards her knees and bringing her arms up to wrap around them. She tried to recreate the image of the beach in her mind again with it’s perfect blue cloudless sky, and the yellowy-gold sand that was warm beneath her feet as she walked towards the clear sea waves yet it wasn’t the same… something warm touched Stiles arm and her eyes flew open. She felt an arm wrap around her shoulder and push her towards something that was warm and Stiles looked up to find Derek sat down next to her, apparently sharing his body heat.

“What are you doing?” Stiles asked, trying to ignore the fact this had been the closest she’d been to Derek in months. It wouldn’t take much for her tilt her head up and kiss him, she was probably going to die in this stupid freezer after all, but she managed to stop herself. If she was going to kiss Derek, and she really really hoped she’d get to it would not be while she was surrounded by pieces of dead animals.

“You’re cold Stiles, and I run slightly warmer than you so I should be able to warm you up. At least for a little while.” He said, his voice sounding seriously worried towards the end but whatever. Stiles was ignoring that for the warmth that was suddenly around her right side. It wasn’t as warm as a werewolf should have been but Derek clearly had the advantage here and Stiles was going to make the most of his warmth for as long as she physically could. The idea flashed across her mind as soon as she thought about how she’d manage to warm her left side up at some point and before she could think better of it Stiles moved to place her legs either side of Derek’s waist- and she was purposefully ignoring how she was essentially straddling him- before wrapping her arms around his torso and curled into his chest. 

“Don’t make this any weirder than it already is,” Stiles ordered him as she tried to ignore the warmth that had spread across her cheeks and Derek slowly began to relax, even going as far as to rub his hands up and down her arms in some hope that friction would bring her some warmth…

* * * * * * * *

They didn’t talk much, and even when they did it was normally just Derek asking her how cold she was or what part of her body was numb. Which was most of it. Stiles wasn’t stupid and she knew that if she didn’t get out of here soon she’d be suffering with a massive case of hypothermia. Her fingers and toes had long since lost the painfulness that was pins and needles and had instead gone worryingly numb. Derek’s hands that were running along her arms and down her back where painful yet she didn’t want to worry him further by asking him to stop and the motion was at least comforting. Stiles couldn’t believe that this was how she was going to die after everything, in a god damn freezer of all things. She wasn’t defending anyone she loved and she wasn’t even doing anything but simply sitting and waiting for death to take her. That was the most frustrating thing.

Stiles listened to Derek’s heart beat, comparing it to her slower one as she felt her eyes get heavier and heavier.  
“Stiles, just stay awake. Scott will be here soon, and we’ll be out of here. Just stay awake.” Derek whispered into her ear and Stiles made herself nod slowly. She wanted to stay awake, knew that as soon as she closed her eyes it was all going to be over. Game over. But sleep would be warm… and comforting… but she fought against it.

Scott would be coming. She had to hold on.

* * * * * * * * *

Stiles wasn’t sure how much more time had passed when Derek began to whisper things into her ear and while she couldn’t work out what he was saying she couldn’t help but focus on his voice rather than the urge to sleep. It was comforting listening to him whisper things to her as he sluggishly ran his hands down her back one last time before pulling her into towards him, now wrapping her arms around her in a hug. It was nice that their friendship meant he’d do this for her at least, that he’d try to fight against her dying here.

As Stiles fought against the now almost impossible urge to close her eyes she couldn’t help but wonder how people would think dying like this was any way easier than to die by fire… and a small part of her brain wanted to ask Derek which he would have preferred. But then it clicked together the memories of Derek’s burnt house and Stiles didn’t even know if Derek would die with her tonight. The idea that he’d survive in some form of consciousness until someone found them was more horrifying however, that he’d be stuck in a room with her lifeless body knowing that yet again he could do nothing to save someone he cared about. That sucked more. Stiles knew Derek pretty well and she knew that not being in control was something he despised more than anything else, and that being stripped away from him like that would no doubt terrify him. Her mind seemed determined to betray her as she got closer towards her final moments, filling her mind with thoughts of Derek remaining her trapped in his own mind with yet another dead body for him to blame himself for. It was strange but that thought, and his stupidity, helped her fight against everything…

* * * * * * 

“Stiles, what are you doing? Y-you can’t take that off!” Derek urged as Stiles tried to pull the shirt he’d given her some time ago off of her shoulders.

“But I-I’m war-rm D-Derek.” Stiles protested. He was being stupid, trying to make her uncomfortable like this… why was she even in his lap anyway?

“Stiles, you n-need to keep warm.” He said pulling her in closer and Stiles couldn’t help but curl up into him. He had a nice chest, comfy even… so much so that when the door metal door crashed open Stiles didn’t even turn around.

“I hope we’re not interrupting something,” said a voice. Stiles took a few moments to work out that it was Peter’s and she couldn’t work out why she was so happy to hear it. It was Peter after all.

“Interrupting what- Stiles!” Scott shouted from somewhere but their raised voices hurt and Stiles pushed her head into the space between Derek’s shoulder and neck hoping it would block them out. “What are you doing?!” Scott sounded shocked and Stiles had no idea why until Derek shifted uncomfortably. Stiles wondered just how Scott was taking in the fact that she was currently straddling Derek Hale while dying and it felt as if colour rushed to her cheeks- if that was even possible.

“You cannot seriously be blushing right now Stiles,” Derek whispered into her ear but his voice sounded warmer and more hopeful that it had for a while and it made Stiles’ stomach clench. Damn her stupid emotions. 

Warm hands suddenly braced the top of her arms and pulled her back away from Derek, and then she was being lifted up and carried out of the freezer. 

“This is your idea of not getting into trouble,” Scott told her as he carried her out into the front of a butchers shop, Stiles barely registering the two figures talking quietly, in hushed voices in the corner. Stiles wanted to tell Scott this wasn’t exactly her fault when one of the figures came forward and poured something on her lips. It was sweet tasting and as soon as it hit her tongue she felt warmth bubbling beneath her skin.

“Sleep now Stiles,” a voice told her. “Sleep.” It commanded and Stiles looked up at Scott who nodded encouragingly and that was all the confirmation she needed before she closed her eyes and fell asleep.

* * * * * * * * *

Stiles wakes up to a rough,calloused hand stroking her forehead and as she groggily opens her eyes she finds her dad staring down at her fondly. Somehow Stiles is back in her room, her covers pulled up to her shoulders and someone’s even closed her curtains. The relief that floods through her body is unbelieveable and for a few moments she believes that everything had simply been a weird dream. It wouldn’t be the first one.

“Only you, Stiles, would manage to catch flu in spring and proceed to cut open your forehead on Melissa’s stairs..” He pushes some of her hair from her face and Stiles can’t help but wince as it pulls at the now healing cut across her forehead. The memories of what had happened return and Stiles has no idea how Scott managed to come up with an idea her dad believed so quickly, or how she apparently wasn’t in hospital being treated for hypothermia. But however the hell everything had fallen into place she couldn’t help but be happy because she was at home and her dad looked only mildly worried about her while the rest of him just looks as though he’s used to it. God knows Stiles had managed to do far worse at the McCall household.

“Melissa said to tell you that she’ll be having words with you once you’re better by the way. Can’t believe you’d try and ignore the fact you felt sick and then leave Scott to deal with you unconscious. From what I gather the kid was frantic.” Stiles can’t help but shrug her shoulders, while her dad doesn’t know it Scott owed her big time and she figures this makes them about equal. “Kid thought you’d bleed out from what I gather.” Stiles watched her dad shake his head before he climbed off her bed and fixed the pile of books on her bedside table. “You are house bound for a week by the way, no arguments, it’s Melissa’s orders not mine. You don’t move unless it’s to use the loo or fix your pillows you hear me?” He looks down at her, clearly expecting a fight but for once Stiles is so not giving one. A week of nothing sounds like heaven.

“Absolutely.” Stiles manages to croak out and wow her voice sounds horrible. Flu is going to be an easy sell with that and the fact she feels as if she’s been electrocuted or something equally draining. Her dad seems surprised by the way in which she accepts his terms but he doesn’t fight it, instead stooping down to kiss her forehead quickly before making his way towards the door. Stiles thinks he’s going to walk straight through and she moves so to turn on her side when he stops and glances back at her. She looks at him, confusion written across her face, and he sighs.

“I don’t know how or why you’re suddenly friends enough for Derek Hale to fix your car but just remember kiddo, I’m the sheriff and I’m not above threatening those suspected of murder- whether exonerated or not- when they’re around my daughter. So pass the message on, okay?” The sheriff asks and wow, that was a friendship he probably didn’t need in his life. But he’s not telling Stiles to stay away from Derek which is what she’d expected when he found out about their friendship and the fact he’s treating her like an adult makes Stiles love her dad even more. 

“Sure thing dad, I’ll pass it one when I see him next.” Stiles says tucking a stray piece of hair behind her ear. Apparently nearly freezing to death makes your hair even more unmanageable.

“And when will that be?” The sheriff asks, his eyebrow raised.

“Erm… I dunno. After the week has ended?” Stiles answers, knowing it to be nothing of the truth but hoping that her dad will buy it. It wouldn’t surprise her if Derek wasn’t coming through her window the second her dad left the house or fell asleep but what her dad didn’t know wouldn’t hurt him. She always made sure of that.

“Good.” The sheriff nods, seemingly happy with her answer, before leaving her room and bringing the door with him so that it closes with a soft thud. Stiles carefully collapses back into her pillows, bringing a hand up to trace the cut along her forehead where she can feel the butterfly stitches holding it in together. As she lays in bed she tries to work out what exactly life will throw at her next. But for now she’s content to simply relax in her bed and watch the dust float in the sunlight that seeps through her closed curtains. 

Because for at least a week nothing supernatural is going to be able to bother her. Not while her every movement is under her dad’s watchful gaze and that thought brings a smile to Stiles’ lips as she closes her eyes and falls asleep.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And so this story comes to an end. I had a lot of fun writing this and I hope that you enjoyed reading it. I always love to hear what people think so please spare a minute to comment and let me know your thoughts.
> 
> This story is also the first part of what is shaping up to be a trilogy, and university life permitting the first part of the second fic should be posted very soon. 
> 
> So all that's left for me to say is thank you so much for reading this.


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